


D.s al Coda

by lakeffectkid



Series: sequential modulation [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, it's like vaguely mentioned, mentioned phone sex, not explicit porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 03:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakeffectkid/pseuds/lakeffectkid
Summary: "seeing antonio off at the air port isn’t the part that bothers roderich most. it isn't the significantly quieter walk back through the terminal that bothers him either, nor is it the cold and robotic voice from the parking ticket meter that chirps pleasantly as roderich and antonio's parents pull away. he looks up at the sky, big and empty now that the plane carrying antonio to london for his layover is long gone, high above the clouds. he promised to text when he landed in heathrow and caught his next flight to barcelona.it’s the mostly quiet car ride from the airport that gets under his skin and settles like an unwanted itch that won't go away for eight whole weeks. being alone is fine, he's good at asking for his personal space but lonely is a different concept. for the first time in more than six months of dating, roderich feels lonely."





	D.s al Coda

**Author's Note:**

> the sequel to Dal Segno, it's recommended you read that first for context/backstory so you know what's going on! this one is shorter than the first part.

_week zero_

seeing antonio off at the air port isn’t the part that bothers roderich most. it isn't the significantly quieter walk back through the terminal that bothers him either, nor is it the cold and robotic voice from the parking ticket meter that chirps pleasantly as roderich and antonio's parents pull away. he looks up at the sky, big and empty now that the plane carrying antonio to london for his layover is long gone, high above the clouds. he promised to text when he landed in heathrow and caught his next flight to barcelona.

it’s the mostly quiet car ride from the airport that gets under his skin and settles like an unwanted itch that won't go away for eight whole weeks. being alone is fine, he's good at asking for his personal space but lonely is a different concept. for the first time in more than six months of dating, roderich feels lonely. 

antonio’s parents break up the silence by asking roderich what he’s doing for school, mundane questions that most people use to break the ice or to avoid an awkward situation. he can manage that much for now, playing with antonio’s worn leather cuff bracelet taking up residence on his wrist for the duration of summer. he’s more than fine with getting to know his boyfriend's parents and this is the best time to do so. antonio’s mom, carmen, offhandedly mentions how her son wouldn’t stop talking about him when they met last fall. he doesn’t visibly blush. not even when she mentions how wonderful it is that he can play piano and drops a few hints about wanting her son to channel his extra energy into something besides soccer. (roderich fails to mention how antonio's excess energy is used in other constructive methods. maybe later.)

when they arrive at the train station with forty-five minutes to spare before his train is set to depart he’s left with a crushing hug that smells like home cooking and the ocean, one of those things antonio will be missing for eight weeks. “take care of yourself and don’t hesitate to call us whenever you want to hear embarrassing stories!” roderich keeps to himself that he likes the company of his boyfriend’s parents because his own bond with his parents is much different. not a bad different, just a different family dynamic he'll have to adjust to if he wants to be around them for more than a few hours. 

“thank you, have a safe trip back.”

they’re going off again for a week or maybe longer to some faraway city they haven’t crossed off their bucket list yet. his biggest fear is that he acts too polite, bordering on emotionally distant with the people who welcomed him into their family without hesitation.

roderich’s own parents send a brief text asking if he boarded his train on time; the response is a quick 'yes, no delays'. normally he'd appreciate the silence but he already misses the soft euro-pop music coming from the front seat speakers and pulls antonio’s jacket collar up higher to pretend he’s accompaniment on the train, grasping at the last of his boyfriend's presence in the same time zone. he sighs and waits for the conductor to scan his e-ticket, shrinking himself down as much as possible until the train pulls into the station.

when his phone vibrates with antonio's message that he's arrived safely in heathrow but has to run because his connecting flight gate is at the other side of the airport. the train is getting closer to its destination as well, back to living under his parents' roof for the summer.

 

_week one_

in the weeks before he left, antonio nudged roderich to download whatsapp so they could talk without needing an international data plan. (it actually went more like antonio taking the other’s phone and downloading it for him while his attention was somewhere else. either way, it happened and that's that.)

the good morning texts are received and sent six hours apart, reaching the other by afternoon or too early in the morning. antonio likes sending them even though he knows it’s too early in one part of the world, but just right in his own. he feels his boyfriend's presence in his small room that's supplied by his host family. there's nothing really outstanding about them; three kids that are active and welcoming with parents that don't try to use him as free babysitting. one of them plays piano and it tugs at antonio's heart to the point where he contemplates going home less than two days after landing.

sticking it out is for the best. distance is healthy for couples and it's only eight weeks.

he doesn’t hear from roderich outside of good mornings and good nights for the first week, which in retrospect is a good thing because adjusting to his temporary home takes more than one. it’s not much longer until a guest checking in with her husband and small children asks if he has a girl back home and he says no. "that's a shame," the baby on her hip gurgles and sucks on the mint green pacifier. her accent comes from england and her husband's from wales. "you're quite a handsome young man, maybe you'll meet someone soon."

"i'm not sure about that, but thank you." antonio plays off the awkward conversation, checking the family in. "enjoy your stay here, ma'am."

 

_week two_

it’s four in the morning back in the states when antonio calls - he’s on a break and the opportunity to rest his feet isn’t wasted. “did i wake you up?” of course he did, it’s ten (four) in the morning. the lobby chair feels like he's sitting on a cloud and he props his feet up when nobody's looking in case the bottom of his dress shoes are dirty.

“it doesn’t matter, it’s you.” roderich’s bedhead is probably awful right now, antonio imagines when he stretches and feels a stiff joint pop in his shoulder. his boyfriend’s bedhead is charmingly messy, except he’d never say it out loud otherwise he'd risk getting kicked out of bed and sleeping on the floor. “i miss you a lot, do you know that?”

"i feel the same way." antonio doesn’t comment on how cute roderich sounds when he’s half awake, because he’s witnessed it personally before and nothing could ever replace the real thing. “it’s beautiful here, i see the ocean every morning and my host family showed me how to get around without a car.” the tourists all start to look the same after a while, a mixed bag of accents and nationalities checking in and out. they're mostly british retirees and families, looking to get away while staying in the boundaries of the european union. “it’s not the same without you, though.”

“i bet you’re just saying that to make me feel better. and you know how i feel about the ocean.” a yawn on the other end of the call and antonio knows every minute away is a strain on their new relationship, a career opportunity that could end what they have or make it even stronger. does absence really make the heart grow fonder? “i see every single one of your pictures, but i don’t have anything interesting to respond with.”

"if you don't have anything to say you don't have to. it's enough for me that you see them and you're thinking of me." antonio laughs, warm and sugar-coated that seems to sweeten the words in their phone call. “can we video call sometime? it’s not enough just to hear your voice.”

“when it’s not four ten in the morning, absolutely.” time (and the looming threat of antonio’s boss) wants him back at the front desk, aware of the company image of good customer service and eternal patience. “i’m going back to sleep, i’ll be getting up soon for work.”

“i have to get back to the desk.” antonio wants to be there to see roderich’s nose scrunch up in pesudo-annoyance, his way of pretending to not be bothered by the distance and putting up a brave front for the sake of antonio's happiness “i love you.”

“love you too,” it’s punctuated by rustling sheets and a soft click of a call ending.

 

“who was that?” tomas pokes his head out from the back office, sauntering over to the concierge desk like he owned the entire building. “talking to your girlfriend on the job?”

“no, it’s...” tomas is from the suburbs of lisbon and uses english with antonio while sometimes teaching him basic portuguese in exchange for helping him sound a little less textbook when he tries to pick up girls. it’s a work in progress (both the picking up girls and the english things). “my boyfriend isn’t a morning person.”

“i didn’t know you were gay.” tomas is oddly cautious with his phrasing, taking a long pause and looking around before saying gay aloud. “what’s he like?”

antonio exhales a heavy sigh of relief and keeps on going like nothing’s changed. and nothing has, thankfully. “i don’t know how to answer that without spending all day telling you.”

"well, you might as well start now." 

 

_week three_

_are you busy?_ the text is short and to the point; antonio’s used to. roderich only gets verbose when it's something he's interested in, like one of the many times he spent hours talking about 

_not right now, did you want to call?_ antonio replies fast, making a few errors that auto correct fixes for him. he just got out of the shower and his host family is asleep for the evening so he's essentially alone. tomas and lewis (another coworker, this one from scotland whom antonio needs subtitles to understand at some points) tried to take him barhopping but he didn’t want to go, and opted to call it an early day instead.

_that, and other things._

_other things?_ he's unsure what that even means but doesn't have the chance to question it when a whatsapp call notification lights up his phone screen. “are you okay? you sound out of breath.” is roderich sick? antonio can’t do anything from a continent away. “hello?”

“just,” there’s a groan or something like it. “keep talking, alright? i missed the sound of your voice, is all.”

“if you say so.” he’s not going to argue with his boyfriend, not when he’s making noises to spur him on for mundane details about one of the local stores that has deceptively good coffee for less than five euro. “are you sure you’re alright? you’re breathing a little heavy.”

“antonio, my parents aren’t home and my door’s shut. what do you think i’m doing? making a cake?” there’s a pause, an annoyed huff, and antonio gets it, roderich called him for _that_ and he’s ridiculously flattered. and maybe turned on too, despite it being eleven pm and his host family sound asleep.

“you’re gonna be the death of me.” he can’t do this in his host family’s extra room, it’s some unspoken law not to jerk off in a stranger's house for remaining in good favor with the big guy upstairs. "c'mon, darling, pretend i'm right there with you." 

"f-five more weeks." 

"if you can last five more minutes with me talking to you we can make it five more weeks." roderich barely lasts five minutes, coming when antonio tells him it's okay to let go. 

 

_week four_

antonio’s voicemail flashes with a missed call and it's not from whatsapp, so he presses the play button and knows it's serious because of the roaming fee charges. it’s silent for a few seconds and then piano music starts to play. it’s the same piece that roderich used to practice in the basement music room for hours when they first met, permanently burned into antonio’s memory. then a voice, a very tired voice that belongs to his boyfriend.

he’s rambling about how work drags by and the office he’s working at is populated by women who do nothing but gossip, how he misses the big piano at the university and how he most of all misses antonio. _i miss you every day_ , he says, sighing like there's a weight stuck on his back, and antonio feels that weight too like a phantom limb. he’s happy for roderich getting a job of his own to keep busy while they’re apart and to have something to add to his resume. _i can't even talk about you, how was your day? tell me everything._

it sounds like a plea for a breakup. antonio knows it's not one, but to an outsider it may as well be with how shallow their conversations are. 

tomas and lewis take antonio down to the beach that weekend and they take turns throwing him into the water, asking how his boy back home is as a wave crashes over him. seawater wraps around him like a comfortable blanket and the sun turns his skin a warm bronze. the smell of salt in his hair might be permanent. the three of them are dripping with water and grab street food for dinner, taking bites of each other's food before going back for seconds. "you guys want to play football? my host family has an extra ball."

"fuck yeah." tomas and lewis end up being on one team while the two oldest of the three kids join antonio's team. 

nobody wins at the end of the match but the two oldest kids take pity on the old guys who don't have as much stamina, turning the hose on them to cool down and laughing when antonio springs back to life to turn the hose on the kids. 

 

_week five_

antonio updates instagram every day with scenic photos from work of the pristine hotel decor, a group selfie with his coworkers getting drinks and dinner after work, and more pictures that give off the perfectly crafted perfection and happiness. it’s not just to remember this experience later on, it’s to give roderich a look into how he’s passing his time there.

sometimes there’s a notification of a liked photo or a comment, but it’s not always from the person antonio posted the photo for.

 _your hair’s getting long, i can't wait to see you again._ roderich comments on a photo where antonio looks like a drowned rat after a wave caught him off guard. _i bet it’d be fun to pull, wrapped around my fingers at that length._ is the text antonio receives privately, a suggestive meaning tucked secretly inside.

 _you want me to cut it now or later? there are plenty of other things you could imagine doing to me in the meantime_ antonio replies, covering his blush as someone approaches the front desk to check out. he masks it with a cough and apologizes for his rudeness, squeezing hand sanitizer in his palm vigorously. 

 

_week six_

more than halfway through his job and the distance becomes a weight neither of them like to bring up. sometimes, antonio doesn’t catch the hints of exhaustion in roderich’s voice or lulls in their conversations that used to be daily but now are every other day.

“i’m giving you space to make friends that aren’t me” that isn’t the right thing to say. “we had lives before each other, i don’t expect that to change.”

antonio hears something in german, dialect-heavy and accent-thick. he can’t piece it all together, doesn't know what it means and the video call drops without getting a word in. it might have been intentional or the spotty wifi at his host family's house but he doesn't question it.

*

the end of the week comes around and lewis takes antonio to a club notorious for making trouble to take his mind off of his boyfriend, who still hasn’t spoken to him after five days. “come on, you need a break. everything will work out!”

lewis is pleasantly buzzed off cheap beer and more focused on the heavy bass making the bar top vibrate and he's making a poor attempt to flirt with the bartender while tomas is off dancing with some girl that approached him and he wasn't about to say no.

 

sunday night and antonio’s pulling a late shift at the concierge desk instead of dealing with his relationship problems and he gets an ominous 'i want to talk' message. nobody’s ever around at the graveyard shift and he rarely has things to do besides bring up extra pillows or towels or blankets, so antonio takes the bait even if he feels his stomach churn with uncertainty like a dance in the wrong meter.

 _you’re not off the hook for your disappearing act, i’m still upset at you. that doesn’t mean i don’t want to talk either._

 

_week seven_

antonio starts to pack one suitcase with things he brought over, and another small one with things he acquired while abroad. mostly gifts from coworkers, and souvenirs for his family. there's no trinket to give to roderich that would ever compare to just coming home.

it’s almost time to head back. he’s excited to come home but there’s a part of him that’ll miss the view and the smells of spain.

 

_week eight_

another car ride back to the airport, and this time there isn’t a heavy sense of longing weighing roderich down, instead it's been replaced with excitement and nerves on edge; he couldn’t sit still on the train coming up here and fidgeted too much with the cuffs on antonio’s (it's become a part of his closet now and he doesn't have the heart to return it, judging by how long he’s had it) jacket. he wants to be selfish and be the first one antonio runs to see, to see his boyish and bright smile that he didn’t know eight weeks without was suffering.

“calm down back there, we can’t break the speed limit and i can feel you jiggling your leg from up here. his plane doesn’t land for another two hours, either.” carmen's words go in one ear and out the other one; all roderich feels is the nervous energy thrumming through him. 

 

he fidgets some more in the uncomfortable plastic airport seats, his attention occupied by a score for the upcoming semester that the conductor wants him to look over and see if he liked the piece. he'll be conducting one of them, and he'd prefer to pick his favorite. “eat something, you’ve been staring at that sheet for the last twenty minutes.”

it’s torture not being able to sit closer to baggage pickup because of airport security so they get comfortable in the waiting area between the coming and going of people. some are solo travelers, some are greeted by girlfriends and boyfriends and spouses, and some are greeted by the entire family. he doesn't know what they're traveling for or if they're meeting anyone but he imagines not every plane landing is a homecoming. 

carmen hands him some pre-packaged sandwich from the au bon pain across the way - it’s enough to placate his stomach until the nerves make it churn again. “you’re a good match, you know. i didn't think so at first when he told me about you since you seemed unlike his type.”

“hm?” his hair is uncharacteristically shoved under a beanie, save for the strands that always stand up in a curl. he hasn't quite figured out why it curls no matter what he does to it, but antonio always found it charming so he's learned to embrace it. he's dressed down for the airport because it's too warm; his arms feel bare and exposed in only two layers.

“you two. antonio’s a dreamer, he needs someone to keep him grounded.” carmen has some wrinkles around her eyes, possibly stress lines from worrying about her son while he was away. “when he broke up with lovino he was a mess, i thought something was off when he called and didn’t sound like himself. mother’s intuition, you know? that one was too unpredictable for them to last.”

“i suppose i keep him grounded. but he does the same for me as well.” the plastic crinkles loudly when he unwraps the sandwich - antonio’s dad is looking at the arrival board and pacing aimlessly. his relationship with his own parents is so much different - they’re supportive from a distance. “he walked into the class i helped teach and i didn’t think anything of him the first time i saw him. and then,” he pauses, finding the right words, carmen’s expression calming his nerves immediately. “and then he smiled, i suppose.”

“his father was the same way when we were about your age." carmen nudges his shoulder and they talk more about how the boys met until he runs out of stories that aren't mortifying. he's particularly fond of antonio consistently wooing him with coffee and pastries from the off campus bakery because it meant giving up an already difficult to find parking spot. "that smile is lethal, isn't it?”

roderich jerks his head up from the score to listen to the overhead speaker. he's probably lost his place in it now that the lines start to blur together. “is that his plane?”

the mechanical pencil clatters to the floor and he doesn’t even notice.

 

the wait until antonio passes through customs and baggage claim takes metaphorical years off roderich’s life. clicking suitcase wheels and conversations fill up the terminal and that sense of longing comes back at full strength, rattling around in his chest.

he didn’t cry when antonio left back in may but he cries a little bit now, small tears daring to well at the corners of his eyes that he quickly wipes away with his sleeve. he has an image to uphold even if nobody in the airport knows him.

“we had him for 21 years, go see him first.” carmen gives her approval and he takes off to meet antonio halfway, walking around the people in the crowd 

when he makes contact with antonio again, roderich can’t speak. he opens his mouth to say something but instead antonio kisses him like he’s the only thing in the world that matters right now. he tastes like the in-flight snacks and spearmint gum, smells like cinnamon and salt water. they pull away just to make eye contact and roderich’s usually-solemn expression turns into one uncharacteristically soft, his eyes . and then they kiss again, the slow ease of antonio’s hands coming to sit at the other’s sides until he runs out of air and they finally get to say something. “i missed you so much.”

“you’re finally home,” they need a minute to stay there and remember what each other felt like and looked like in person,but an airport terminal isn’t the place to do so. “let’s get out of here before we attract more attention.”

 

“making out like teenagers on your childhood bed isn’t exactly the impression i want to give to your parents, but,” antonio threads their fingers together, the most basic contact enough to satisfy him until his parents go to bed. “i think my dignity can handle it.”

“i’m so glad you’re putting your ego aside just for me,” antonio has wanted this since his flight left, to touch his boyfriend again and see those pretty eyes focused on him alone. “how long do i have you here?”

“a few days, then i head back home and then back to school.” antonio strips his shirt off, tosses it in the laundry basket with the other dirty clothes that feel stiff and stale from a transatlantic flight. “we should make the most of it.”

“you read my mind,” it’s a new environment, the room antonio used to call home for eighteen years feels like home to roderich because of the person he’s in it with.

 

the signal that antonio’s parents have gone to bed give them the okay to go forward. “i missed seeing you this way,” flustered and turned on, is what antonio means. “that one time over the phone and over skype wasn’t enough,”

“it wasn’t enough for me either.” a bedroom door closes but that doesn’t mean his parents are asleep yet. “i wore your jacket when i thought of you doing this to me.”

“doing what?” he loves how indecent roderich is capable of being despite his well put-together demeanor. “tell me or i’ll stop,”

it’s not enough for verbal confirmation, so the aching hardness against antonio’s leg says even more. “when i thought of you fucking me.”

“jesus,” antonio says a prayer and apologizes in advance for the awful things running through his mind. “do you want to go that far? we can work up to it.”

“at some point, don’t feel any pressure to perform tonight.” there isn’t any; they can go as fast or slow as they feel, just so long as they do it together. “tell me how much you missed me,”

“every day, every day i texted you i missed you.” they’re at it again, kissing slowly until antonio trails his mouth to roderich’s neck and bites at the unmarked skin. “i missed waking up next to you every day, seeing your bedhead and getting to hold you a little longer.”

roderich grinds against antonio’s leg to relieve some of the ache, encouraging antonio to talk more. “what else?” seeing him get pushy and put aside his pride is what antonio missed too.

“i missed hearing your voice, how you’re so easy to pull apart with just one touch,” keeping quiet is the challenge for the night, the most they can do is speak in hushed voices. “hey, let’s get your glasses off first before we break them.”

it’s an easy motion to slide the glasses off and antonio can see his boyfriend’s eyes clearly now, the same pretty violet that he fell for the first time they made eye contact. “as much as i want to be in your parent’s good graces, dear, i want you to get on with it.”

roderich spends too much time touching antonio’s bare torso and admiring how good the summer abroad was for his skin. it's a much darker color now and his hair was lightened by the sun by proxy of going outside frequently - it's even longer than when he posted that photo to the point where tight spiraling curls bunch together at the ends. “no other boys caught your attention while you were away?”

“maybe a few girls here and there. but they didn’t have eyes or hands like yours.” the kisses are hotter now, aggressive and needy now that they have the privacy to be a little louder. antonio sits up and leans back against the pillows between yawns so wide his molars could be seen, his sheets already a wreck from earlier. his bed was made nicely when they got back but it lasted all of five minutes. “get over here, you look too good to be wearing clothes.”

“half of these are yours anyway,” roderich gestures to the sweatpants he’s wearing, the bright yellow fc barcelona logo embroidered on the leg. without his glasses, the eye roll isn’t nearly as effective but he tries anyway, his brand of snark particularly charming. “i’ve been asking you to touch me all night, finally.”

“isn’t it a good thing i’m finally going to?” antonio teases, pulling the other forward by the elastic waistband. he yawns again. 

“any longer and i’d get myself off without your help.” pianist hands are a curse, but also unfairly good at certain things. “i did all summer.”

“i apologize in advance for the things i’m about to do. what part is off-limits?”

“nothing above a shirt collar, preferably.” their parents aren’t oblivious, they just pretend that a sleepover doesn’t involve anything besides sleeping.

“and the rest?”

“all yours.”

 

“that was amazing.” roderich plays with antonio’s hair, the soft curls springing back after being pulled, recoiling into . “we should do that more often.”

“i definitely agree with that.” the scratch marks offer a different answer, and so do the faint hickeys that reach far beyond a shirt collar. “we should sleep, it’s pretty late.”

“you’re still in a different time zone, i’m surprised you’re awake.” roderich, however, is more than ready to sleep, and more likely to now that his human furnace is back. “don’t wake me up before eleven.”

“go to sleep, your highness.”

“call me that again and i’ll start demanding you carry me places.”

 

carmen nudges antonio in the ribs when he comes down for a belated breakfast, giving her son a look. “put a shirt on before your father has a heart attack.”

“sorry, mamá.” he didn’t realize how....visible anything was until his mother gave him a nod of approval. “did you, um. hear anything last night?”

antonio, for all of his good qualities, is too dense to realize his boyfriend is a little loud sometimes since they don't live at home during the school year. maybe they're a little spoiled by not being told to keep it down by eternally patient roommates. “not over your father snoring.”

even with his summer tan there’s still a visible blush. “just wondering. anyway. i’m gonna. go back upstairs.” he forgets breakfast and chooses to forgo it until roderich stirs and asks about coffee and then looks ridiculously proud of his work.

 

_fall semester_

they part again for a week and a half (and then some), at least until school starts. antonio considers going back early since the person subletting his room left already and francis needs company besides his own reflection. “don’t do anything stupid until the semester starts again.” roderich kisses antonio briefly on the cheek. “i have scores to read and three classes to TA so the professors want to meet and go over things. there's some paperwork and moving in to do for my RA duties as well, but it's not like i'll be sleeping there. i think i'll only do one more semester of it.”

the flurry of information is a lot to keep track of but antonio knows it'll be scribbled down in his boyfriend's planner, fastidious and organized notes stuck on top of even more to-do's. ”and then we graduate this spring.”

“i could get used to the idea of keeping you around for a while, what do you think?” antonio sits and waits at the station with roderich until his train arrives, the reverse picture of the airport ten weeks ago. “maybe in a few years we’ll have a little apartment and a cat.”

“let’s get to graduation first and then we'll consider a cat.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry i didn't delve too far into the actual summer internship stuff, i had every intention to but i wanted to get the second revised part out.


End file.
